


Really Got A Hold On Me

by roxymissrose



Series: Hold On Me [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Turned Into Vampire, F/M, M/M, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 15:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12867684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxymissrose/pseuds/roxymissrose
Summary: It's a whole new world for Sam and Dean.





	Really Got A Hold On Me

**Author's Note:**

> As in the original fic, I played with Vampire lore to suit the story. 
> 
> Third and last part of Warm Hand In Mine.

Pain. It's the first thing he notices. Then, _cold._ Then, something solid, gritty, under his hands. Dirt...wood, a wooden floor. A filthy wooden floor. The air reeks. _Stinks_ of mold and mildew and rotten wood and bugs and dead animals. Old blood. Moss. Stagnant water.

And Dean.

Sam's eyes fly open in shock and instantly the pain triples—feels like acid overflowing his eye sockets; a blow-torch vaporizing his corneas—that's what it feels like, this burning, searing pain. Acid flows over his skin, making it flinch and shudder and crawl like it's trying to shiver right off his bones.

Blind, shrieking, he rolls to his stomach and scrabbles across the filthy floor. Get out of the light, the light—

Sam hurts so bad it makes him want to vomit; an instant passes and that feeling flips, his gut is twisting with outrageous hunger. He's overwhelmed by it, swamped by godawful, gnawing hunger worse than anything he's ever experienced. On the heels of that comes _thirst—_ fuck—he'd thought the hunger was bad, but the thirst? So fucking inhumanly thirsty, he's crying with the need to make it stop. Instinct makes him crawl away from the hurt but there's no where to go—the hurt is his whole world. He keeps moving though, towards something, anything, sobbing little helpless moans, pain dribbling out of his mouth. There's food here, somewhere, he's sure of it, he just has to find it. Gotta be here; he can smell it.

Something heavy crashes into him, pins him. Sam screams, he knows he's fighting for his life. He pushes and kicks and grunts with the effort, trying to find something to claw, to latch his teeth on. He's not going down without a bite— _fight,_ fight. He has to _live._

"Stop, stop, damn it—ung-shit, you little bastard!"

Sam hits something that gives under the force of his punch, and some feeling, some instinct, tells him to stick his fingers into whatever gave like that, _dig in and pull—_

Sam surges up out of the hold of whatever it is that's got him, opens his jaws as wide as he can stretch and bites down hard. There's a rippling, fuzzy feeling across his gums and whatever's caught in his mouth cracks. Splits open.

Fuck, it's good, so goddamn _good._ It's good, it's good, tastes so fucking good, and maybe if he bites down harder, he can get even more of it. He sucks, and gnaws, blinking painful tears away, trying to see past the searing light setting fires in his eyesockets. 

He gnaws, grunting with the effort, grinds a fist across his nose, smearing snot and blood away and Sam can finally breathe. Nose and lungs fill with air and the _smell…._

Sam coughs in surprise at the amazing variety of smells. He can tease out all the different flavors in the scents rushing in: hot blood, rich marrow, the thick, dank stink of exploded viscera excites him….

Sam finally wiggles his fingers loose of whatever soft thing they'd been tangled up in. He thinks that maybe he hears Dean, somewhere in the background.

Oh. Yeah, here he is. Dean's right here. Under his hands. 

Sam feels him shudder. Wonders, in a distant sort of way, why Dean's laughing and...is he screaming? 

He is screaming. Sam growls, because Dean is fighting with him, and that's _wrong!_

He's trying to push Sam back, away...no, no, no...stop, Sam _needs_ him. He just found him.

Sam digs in tighter, his teeth gnawing into the flesh he's just coming to realize is his brother's. Sam squeezes his eyes tighter, and works his jaws to draw harder on the blood, meat, listens to the slow thump of Dean's heart right under his cheek, the even thump-thump going ragged and slowing more with each strong pull of Sam's mouth, stealing Dean's blood. Doesn't matter, Sam needs it more than his brother does. 

_Crack._ "Let go." 

A lightning bolt of pain radiates from a point on Sam's jaw to his forehead, a hammer strike against his ear cracks something, makes his jaws loosen. 

Dean's fist hammers into the side of his head, over and over, until, with a rattling snarl, Sam finally has to let go. He drops back to the gritty floor and before he can blink, a boot smashes him dead-center in the face. 

 

He careens across the floor, slamming to a stop against a wall. It takes him a few seconds to shake it off. He's dazed, still hurting, but he's feeling high, too. There's a rising wave of euphoria despite the sharp throbbing he's feeling, too. The god-awful hunger's gone, and his mouth's feeling so much better. His eyes still burned, but not quite as fiercely. He rubs acidic tears out of them, winces at the gradually brightening dark; grateful he's not blind. 

Sight comes back, slowly, and he discovers that horrible acid-bright light? Just the moon shining through the broken slats of a blind hanging over a window. 

_"There's my boy, there he is, my good, good boy."_

Dean's hanging over him, mouth split with a toothy grin, his shirt (and more) in tatters. 

"Taste good, Sammy?" He rubs blood and bits of meat off his chest, and Sam watches a ragged gash knit itself up in slow-motion. "Not good as new, not yet. But you will be when we get a fresh snack."

 _Vampire._ Sam throws his head back, stares at Dean. 

Turned. Not Sam Winchester anymore. Now he's a monster. A vampire. 

Sam waits for the crushing sense of defeat; he vaguely remembers feeling it before he died. Dean killed him. He waits for the sorrow, he waits for despair that never comes. He's just hungry again. He just wants to eat his brother. 

 

"Right," Dean grins. "Come on, Sammy, sit up here." He makes space on a filthy cot pushed against one wall, and Sam crawls over crunchy, brown-spattered sheets to fold himself up next to Dean, who doesn't scare him anymore. Who smells good, and makes his mouth water and his teeth itch.

"You're mine now, no one else's. You belong to me, you're my nest. And I'm gonna teach you how to feed us. There won't be no one else but us, ever. Don't need anyone else." Dean runs his nose up Sam's throat, over his ear, stops and presses his lips against Sam's temple, snuffling like a dog. 

"You feeling hot yet, warming up, Sam? You smell good, still smell so fucking good."

Sam's gut rumbles. His teeth prick at his gums again. His dick perks up at a stray touch from Dean. Yes. Good. He stretches and thinks _...nothing hurts._ Inside or out. Nothing matters. Nothing at all.

Dean grins "Nope. Nothing matters anymore but you and me."

Sam frowns at him, a thought wiggles up into his brain..."So, you and me, we're Nest, but...where are the others? I saw them before, when they turned you. I smell them...but they're not here."

Dean looks bored. He shrugs, digs around the stained sheets until he pulls out a cracked open piece of slick, pink bone. Tosses it to Sam. It's cold, sticky. Uninteresting. Sam throws it to the ground.

"Killed them," Dean says. "They were stupid. They were fuckers. Turned me, then didn't let me feed. I was so weak. So _hungry_ I tried to eat myself…" Dean looks haunted for a split second, then grins, teeth out. "Stupid, like I said. They let me out of the chains, thinking I was too weak to move. Assholes are always underestimating us, ain't they, Sammy? I showed them we don't ever give up."

Sam giggles, thinking of Dean, thinking of the vamps who were stupid enough not to recognize they'd created the ultimate monster. The ultimate monster, who now had the perfect backup.

Sam's stomach roars again, and he jack-knifes forward in agony, trying to twist himself around the blood-hungry thing inside him, ripping at his guts. 

"Hungry, hunh?" Dean grabs Sam's hand and drags him up, out of the door, into the dazzling night. "C'mon, Sammy, you're about to learn so many new things."

 

* * * *

There's a girl, a pretty girl Dean sweet-talked into following him back to Sam's nice, clean, room.

She's good. When Dean tells her to spread, she smiles and snuggles back into Dean's hold. Sam sinks to his knees in front of her, excited and grateful she's there. 

He and his brother are both hot, clean and fresh-wet from the showers they've taken. It's been a week or so, but Sam's education have brought them meandering back to the old-time motor court. Figured it was a good time to retrieve the car, their weapons bag, and their clean, mold-free clothes. The motel manager was reluctant at first to give those things up, but between the two of them, they managed to convince him. The guy's tucked out of the way now, nice and neat-ish. Sam figures they have a few good hours before having to bug out.

Now, Dean, he doesn't give a shit about much (outside of his tiny Nest) but food and maybe the car, but Sam does, he cares a lot. Found he didn't like being crusty with old blood and dried mud, bits and shreds of things. He'd managed to convince Dean it was easier to hunt when they looked less threatening--a bit more like the snacks. Sheep, wolves' clothing, blah-blah….

Logic. Sam might be a vampire now, but he's still Sam. _More or less…._

Dean looks more like 'Dean' again, hair fresh and clean, dirt and blood washed out—it'd soft and a bit shaggy without his usual gels and hair shit...Sam loves that his skin's like porcelain again. He smells like nothing else but Dean now, the scent of him goes right to Sam's dick. God, how everything _smells._ So fucking good. The girl shifts and her movement sends a thick wave of scent into the air. Sam's mouth fills so fast he almost drools before he can catch himself. He can see Dean's teeth slightly dimpling his lower lip, tiny glints of white. Sam would rip into her right now, but Dean, he wants to teach Sam a lesson. Some things don't ever change—Dean can't ever give up acting like he's the boss of Sam. 

Sam glares at his brother. A thin, weak growl floats past the girl unheard, but makes Dean's lip curl.

"Je-sus, you boys are hot as fuck. This gotta be my lucky fuckin' night," she moans, and spreads her legs a little wider. Sam grunts like he's been punched, pushes his face into the crease of her hip. Opens his mouth over her thumping pulse, hot tongue licking, leaving wet trails there and across her hip, her belly, before zig-zagging back down again. He rubs his face in her hair, taking in the smell of her. Hooks his thumbs between, and spreads her lips wide, zeroing right in on her clit. The first touch makes her jump, giggles lowering into throaty moans as Sam tastes her. 

"Yeah, too hot…" Dean snaps his teeth, moans himself. His hips push up, his dick goes sliding a little deeper into her. Sam can hear Dean's dick drive into dripping meat. He can smell Dean, and the girl, and himself where his dick is dripping into the sheets….

Dean rocks his dick in and out, slow, steady—teasing. Sam pushes her legs up higher and wider, so he can tongue all around where Dean is in her, wiggles down to lick Dean's balls, up again to mouth and suck at her clit, then pushes his face in, deep as he can, opens his mouth wide. A tooth grazes Dean's dick, opens a shallow groove. He shudders with the sounds Dean makes. A little blood, a little slick, pussy, ass...it all tastes so good. Good enough to eat.

Sam inhales deep, feels and hears his teeth slide through the slits in his gums, drop all the way down. They itch and ache and he's hungry and horny...Sam bites down. He latches on and gnaws at his mouthful, ignoring her spasms, small fists pounding his head, nails dragging long gouges over his neck and head...he bites down harder to keep from laughing. Her heels drum against his back.

He glances up and locks eyes with Dean—tendons standing out over the hand mashed against the girl's mouth to lock in screams. He's holding her down as she arches. Her back bows so deep, he slips out, dick slapping Sam's face. Dean laughs, and Sam just growls, shakes his head until the thick chunk of meat he's trapped in his teeth pulls free.

Blood fountains out, and Dean's laughter spirals higher, louder.

"Fuck, I knew it'd be more fun with you Sammy, more fun." 

Dean pulls the soon-to-be dead girl's head back, digs in with an animal snarl that's got Sam's dick pumping slick into the sheets. He can hear her skin pop, the ragged sound it makes as it tears. Hear Dean gulp and gulp... _blood._

Who'd have thought he could love it so much? The thick, hot, weirdly greasy feel on his tongue, the way the salt and copper flavor made him shiver when he drank, and the way it made his dick hard. Harder, like now, whenever he watches Dean eat. Drinking blood, loving it...nothing he could ever have imagined doing, and now, it's everything. It's life. Makes him feel huge, and alive, and invincible...the sense of power rolling through him makes him shudder and thrust hard into the sheets. He catches Dean staring at him, bloody grin and a wink.

Sam drops his hand over her heart. It's galloping like wild horses but Sam knows the flow is slowing; Dean speeds up, drawing it in hard as he can, but Sam's had the most of it, the best of it...he can feel waves of heat coming off his brother and then, just like that, it's over—Dean arches high, and comes as her heart stops.

Blood trickles sluggishly into his mouth as he licks lazily, reflexively. The girl's still spread in Dean's lap. Laying lax like a broke-string puppet. The fierce joy on Dean's face shifts to disinterest and he shoves her aside. 

He's covered from neck to thighs in blood, and Sam sees no reason to let that go to waste.

He's on Dean in a moment, licking, nibbling but careful this time, just enough to graze his skin, maybe bite just a little—nothing that Dean can't heal in seconds. He sniffs, and groans, and working his way from Dean's belly to his dick, and licks there too, at the little pool of slick and come in his lap. He drinks it down, the coppery taste of blood, the sharper taste of the woman, the musky taste of Dean...his blood. Salt-sweet, a little stale. Not as vibrant and full as fresh snack-blood, but seductive just the same because it's _Dean._ He opens his mouth and takes Dean's soft dick inside, mouths and sucks gently, enjoying the feel and heat and taste….

Brother. Lover, maker...Nest. Family….

Dean startles Sam by writhing across the bed, flipping until they're head to toe—Sam gets it then. Dean mutters, "Always wanted to suck you while you sucked me, dreamed of this." 

Dean's got a handful of Sam's hair twisted up in his fist, uses it like a leash to grind Sam's face into his crotch—forces his dick past any obstruction in Sam's throat. He waits out Sam's panic and smirks when he stops choking. "Can't smother, can't drown, can't die...go on, swallow."

Sam levels a heated glare at Dean, but Dean just slaps his ass. Some things will never change, Sam thinks. 

 

Dean opens his mouth then, sinks down on Sam's dick, down, down, pushes on until Sam can feel Dean's throat constrict around him, feels the tightness give when Sam pushes in, deep and fast, past the point he'd ever tried in that other life. Would never have done this—too worried, too concerned—too caught up in never putting himself first, but now…

Dean's fingernails stretch out, sharp as swords, they trace something across Sam's skin. He smells himself, strong and coppery as the skin splits. He pauses, ignoring the grunt of annoyance Dean huffs out, but his fingers never stop and Sam realizes he's writing mine, mine, across his thighs, cutting it into Sam's skin. 

Sam comes in Dean's throat the second Dean comes in his.

Minutes tick away; Dean rolls free. Sam bares his teeth at Dean, wipes his mouth on his maker's stomach before rolling to his side. He pushes the cold meat out of the bed. Plants blood-stained chin on blood-stained hands and stares at Dean, until Dean begins to fidget, aims a snarl at Sam, which droops into an uneasy smile, and finally lifts his lips to bare rows of needle teeth at him. 

"You know, we could have had this at any time before," Sam finally says. His throat sounds like he's been gargling gravel, feels like it...it's satisfying. He likes that there was some sign of what they'd done...besides the stupid grin on his brother's face.

Dean shrugs, so nonchalant and unimpressed it pulls a belly laugh out of Sam. 

Sam shrugs too, slides off the bed. There's nothing to say right now, so he matches Dean for silence. Watches Dean slither out of the bed, skip around the body on the floor. He yanks his jeans out from under her. There's a long streak of blood down the front of them, but he puts them on anyway, ignoring Sam's huff of impatience. 

Dean grabs their bags from under the bed, and tosses them at the door. "C'mon, Sammy, gotta get dressed and get the hell out. Somebody's bound to come looking for her, not to mention they're gonna find the front desk guy soon."

Sam strolls past him to the bathroom, rolling his hips, eyes narrowed at his brother. "No one's coming to this shit-hole anytime soon—I'm cleaning up first, jerk."

He doesn't expect Dean to grab him by the shoulder, and flip him around, so he rears back, teeth dropping and ready to fight if he needs to. But Dean looks thoughtful...no, he looks. Sad, Sam thinks. _Whatever for?_

"I think that...I think...I'm sorry?"

"Oh yeah?" Sam tilts his head at him, sweeps him from head to toe with an appraising look. He takes in the slightly pained look on Dean's face, listens to the blood's sluggish path in Dean's veins. Smells sex and death on him, thick, ripe.

"Don't worry about it," Sam says after a bit. "I'm okay. We're okay. Besides," he grins, before shutting the door in Dean's face. "You gonna tell me this isn't what you've always wanted? You, me, together alone? Forever?"

11-25-2017  
~FIN~


End file.
